The Purge: A New Foundation
by thetofupirate
Summary: During the final Purge in 2040, a band of homeless deviants are given no choice but to fight back against a government that wants them dead.


They say the year 2040 was the turning point, and I get to say I witnessed it, for what it's worth. How's that old saying go: _going out with a bang?_ Well, I guess it's fitting enough. 2040 was the last Purge before it was officially dismantled by President Roan and her cabinet shortly after her election, much to the dismay of the New Founding Fathers. I figure people grew tired of strangers breaking into their homes and waylaying their families in plain sight - or at least the mere prospect of it ultimately swayed their voting hands.

I haven't had a family in some fifteen odd years, so that part never did much to concern me, unless you feel inclined to call my old band of misfits a family. We didn't purge like most people - we thought we were too smart for that. Awfully strange considering we weren't much more than a gang of homeless criminals, but nevertheless. The only time we killed anyone was to cover our asses or save ours from getting shot. We never quite understood the whole "cleansing your soul" thing all those off-kilter rich folks kept going on about. For us, the Purge was our night to try to get off the streets, at least for a while.

There was me, of course: a college dropout who couldn't afford to continue pursuing a degree in journalism and decided becoming a drug mule was far more practical. To be fair, I wasn't half bad at it. Nothing about my outward appearance at the time screamed, "I have drugs on me". I would've ended up homeless a lot sooner anyways if an old friend of mine hadn't gotten me started transporting "the stuff" to his clientele, as he'd put it. But apparently, one of his customers was intercepted on the day I got arrested with a small sandwich bag full of amphetamines in my backpack. I guess I had it coming.

Then there was Nikki. She was a heroin addict. It wasn't necessarily her fault, but she ended up homeless and jobless because of it. An accident at work led her doctor indirectly getting her hooked on opiates. After an unusually successful Purge night a few years back, I'd scrounged up enough money to afford a studio apartment for six or seven months. I let her move in and stayed with her through detox. She was special to me. For a week or so, she would sleep most of the day and spend the nights puking and shivering in the bathroom. I don't really know if she wanted to quit, but she didn't have anymore money for it, and I certainly wasn't going to fund her addiction with the little money I had. After that, it took her the good part of a month to bounce back, but sure enough, she did it. I guess being dead broke was a blessing in her case.

Raldo and Tom were brothers, or so they claimed. They sure did look alike, but I never saw any birth certificates or identification, so that one is still up in the air, as far as I'm concerned. One thing I know for certain though is that those guys knew how to break into things. Doors, windows, locks, safes - you name it, they could get past it. But unfortunately for them, talent doesn't grant a legal pass, much like what happened to me. They caught a joint breaking-and-entering charge after a home surveillance camera basically plastered their faces all over local news channels. Still, during the Purge, damn near everything gets a legal pass.

The last miscreant to join our little troop was Tanya. Tanya was probably the last person I'd wanna run into in a dark alley, or really anywhere for that matter. From what I understand, she came from an abusive household and was never able to hold down a job due to it. She was on the shorter side, but she was built for beating the shit outta people, and that's a gift she never wasted. Her wrists were like shotgun barrels and she had slugs for fists. Hell, all she'd take on Purge nights were boots and brass knuckles. She never fought to kill, but shit, I'd be surprised if most of the poor bastards she hooked or curb-stomped ever got back up again.

Even during the other 364 days of the year, we stuck together pretty close. It was tough feeding five mouths - there's no getting around that - but at least we never had to worry about having our shit stolen. Sleeping in turns is easier when you have someone that's used to being up all night. Nikki would keep watch while the rest of us slept, and during the day, one of us would sit with her while she slept. The other three would go off and look for "scores", as we called them, meaning anything we could make use of: food, utensils, scrap parts, even weapons on occasion. You'd really be surprised by the kinda shit people just toss into dumpsters. We even found a body once - it wasn't on Purge night, obviously, though we ended up just leaving the lid open so someone else would eventually find it. As a group, we didn't think it would be such a good idea being five homeless folks with questionable backgrounds to get involved with the police, especially with a plausible murder case.

But despite rainy springs, hellion summers, somber autumns, and freeze-your-balls-off winters, we did alright for a bunch of criminals and rejects. We coexisted almost effortlessly for seven years. So when March 21st, 2040 arrived on our doorstep - if we had a doorstep, that is - we didn't expect a Purge any different from the rest. I recall it being cold, cloudy, and damp that morning after some persistant rain the night before forced us to take cover inside an abandoned parking garage. Turns out we weren't the only ones bunking up there to get outta the weather.

The moment we walked in, another gang - this one was all men - were already set up there in the opposite corner of the lot. They didn't notice us at first, but it didn't take long for them to catch wind of the clodding of Tanya's combat boots on the cement floor. At first, we as a group just stopped and stared at them, and as a group, they turned and stared right back. Even though they were at least a couple hundred feet away, I could feel the fight-or-flight instinct creeping into my joints.


End file.
